No need for perfect

Her ear wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t matter.  It seemed to me, her beauty came from within.  Beauty in the twinkle of her eye, beauty in her giggle, beauty in the tassels of her hair.  Very little hair indeed.

Even her tearful cries were beautiful-like that of a lamb separated from its mother.  And once quieted, rocked to sleep-resting as a content angel-my most beautiful creation.

~~~To my beautiful daughter Tesla.  We had three minutes to write about what we believe to be “the most beautiful thing.”

~P.

Ying woke

Ying woke early Saturday morning, stretching his long furry legs on the luxurious king size memory foam mattress fitted with six hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, a silky comforter embellished with beautiful geometric shapes in various sizes, sixteen pillows matching the comforter’s pattern and colors all situated on an expensive handmade dark mahogany four poster bed passed down through eight generations of his owner’s family-German in descent-and shoved his cold nose into her hand, eager to get their morning routine started.

“It’s Saturday mutt!  Get away!” she yelled.

(Assignment was to write one sentence of at least 75 words followed by a short sentence)